


Skating Into Your Life

by AbaddonsLittleWItch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, One Shot, figure skater!Cas, hockey player!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:54:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbaddonsLittleWItch/pseuds/AbaddonsLittleWItch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean shows off his ability to stumble and blush around anyone he finds properly attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skating Into Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompt for a figure skater and hockey player AU on Tumblr.

Dean stood in the door leading from the hockey stadium’s locker room, staring wide eyed at the man who was now gliding gracefully around the ice, oblivious to the world. It was the third time that week that he had been struck dumb by the beauty in the movements of this man, who’s name he didn’t know. In fact, the only thing knew was that the guy game to practice everyday after Dean’s team left, and that he was clearly some kind of figure skater. And while he couldn’t name every spin or flip the man did, he could clearly see that the guy was good. He wore a simple light blue pair of skating pants that showed off his lean leg muscles as he glided and a matching zipped jacket. There was some kind of logo printed on the pants, but Dean couldn’t make out what it was; he figured it was probably the logo of a team, though. This guy was way too good to not be skating professionally.

After standing for a few more minutes, Dean decided to sit down and watch the man practice for a while. He ignored the fact that it made him feel like a weirdo and focused on the man.

He moved as though his limbs were made of water; fluid and graceful, each movement joining seamlessly with the next. When he jumped his hands stretched to the heavens and Dean was forcibly reminded of a bird taking flight. He skated forward, kicking one leg behind him before dropping down to nearly touch the ice and spinning in a circle four or five times. He skated backwards, jumping in the air and spinning around, landing on one skate and speeding into the next twirl. The ease with which he moved was astounding. It was like he had been born to skate, like his body had been perfectly molded and formed into the shape it would need to perform each move flawlessly.

Dean lost track of how long he had been sitting in the stands watching. The man’s beauty had, simply put, put him under a spell. He was so entranced with watching to see what the man would do next, that he didn’t even realize the man had started skating towards him until he was past half way across the rink. Dean startled up out of his chair, grabbed his hockey bag, and made to run out of the stadium. God, how embarrassing it was to be caught watching the guy practice like some kind of stalker. He was nearly at the exit when he heard a shout from behind him.

“Wait!”

Dean froze and turned, his cheeks at least eight different shades of red. The man was standing at the edge of the rink, squinting his eyes at Dean.

“Please come here, you know as well as I how damaging for skates it is to walk anywhere other than on ice.”

Now that he was less than ten feet away, Dean could fully hear his deep Baritone voice and the thick Russian accent that bent and shaped every vowel and syllable; it was just as entrancing as the rest of him. Dean sighed and trudged to the edge of the rink.

“I know that you were watching me.”

Dean winced and looked down. Of course the guy had realized he was watching. He was, after all, the only frickin weirdo left in the rink besides Mr. Perfect Skater.

“Please, do not misunderstand; I am not mad, simply curious. Who are you?”

Dean looked back up and made the mistake of looking into the man’s eyes. They were a bright crystalline blue, shinning like sapphires even in the artificial light of the rink. Never in all his life had Dean seen eyes like these before; he barely even registered anything else about the guy, until he spoke again.

“Well?”

Dean coughed and gave himself a small shake.

“Uh, Dean. I-I’m Dean.”

“Dean…” There was something strangely sensual about hearing this man roll his name around his, Dean now noticed, soft, full, pink lips. Dean whined internally. Not only was this guy a brilliant skater, he had a voice like melted chocolate, eyes that no person should ever posses, and mouth that looked like it was begging to kissed. He was everything Dean didn’t need in the middle of the season.

“I am Castiel. It is a pleasure to meet you, Dean.” Dean pulled himself back to reality and stuck his hand out. Castiel shook it firmly, his hands warm and smooth.

“Listen, uh, I-I’m sorry I was watching you like a stalker. That’s was so out of line and weird for me to do.”

“It is not a problem. I very much enjoy performing for an audience of even one man.”

Cas smiled and Dean swore he felt his heart stop.

“Well, I’ve, uh, I’ve seen you here after practices before. You’re really talented. I….I couldn’t stop watching.” Dean chuckled nervously and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “You’ve got some incredible talent, Cas.”

“Cas? I have never been called that before. I like it.”

Dean smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

“I must admit, Dean, I have watched you practice as well. I am better at hiding myself from others, though, I think. You, also, are very good on skates.”

Dean felt his eyes widen in shock. This perfect specimen had been watching him and thought he was good? 

“May I ask you a question, Dean?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Would it be agreeable for you to go out for coffee with me? I have just moved here from Russia to learn more about skating from the Olympic US team. I do not know many people, or hockey players, and I would very much like to learn about the differences of how you skate. And, I find you to be pleasant to look at.”

“I…er…. Uh, yeah, great. I mean, sure. Y-yes. Yes, it would be, uh, agreeable. I, erm, I-I find you….pleasant….to look at, too.”

Dean hadn’t stammered this badly since his first date at fourteen years old and he knew he had to learn more about this strange Russian man who had, quite literally, just skated into his life.


End file.
